The dust slowly began to settle.
A figure gradually erged from within.
Dracule Mihawk, at this mont, appeared slightly disheveled. His signature hood was long gone, and his cloak and clothes were riddled with slashes. Yet, there wasn’t a single trace of blood on him, clearly indicating he hadn’t been truly injured.
Beneath the torn fabric of his clothes, his skin glead like inky darkness. It was evident he had coated his body with Armant Haki for defense.
Hearing Will’s words, Mihawk slowly retracted the Haki covering his body and flashed a grin. "No matter how much I dislike fighting, to survive on these seas, you need a certain level of strength, don’t you?"
In the midst of dodging and countering Will’s attacks earlier, if not for his substantial reserves of Armant Haki, it wouldn’t just be his clothes and cloak that were slashed. He’d likely be lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from grievous wounds.
Seeing the battle-hungry grin on Mihawk’s face, Will instantly understood why people often mistook him for a battle maniac. That smile looked even more warlike than his own.
Then, with his sharp senses, Will noticed Mihawk’s chest heaving slightly. With a teasing chuckle, he said, "Releasing those wind blades for so long must’ve left you drenched in sweat, huh, Mihawk?"
Mihawk, who indeed had a few beads of sweat trickling down his back, was slightly startled but retorted with equal defiance. "That unique afterimage technique you used must’ve taken quite a toll on you too, hasn’t it? Your stamina’s probably running low by now."
Will couldn’t help but laugh. "True, it did burn so energy. But if we kept fighting, I reckon I could still go at it with you for a few more days."
He said this, but in his heart, he had no intention of continuing the fight. Given their current strength, it might actually take days to determine a victor. Will hadn’t forgotten that he’d just been slapped with a bounty by the Marines—and for killing a Celestial Dragon, no less. Marineford had likely already dispatched an Admiral to the East Blue to capture him.
Having a thrilling bout with Mihawk was enough. There was no need to engage in a life-or-death struggle. If he fought Mihawk to exhaustion only to face an Admiral right after, it wouldn’t exactly be in his favor. He enjoyed the thrill of battle, but he wasn’t so brainless berserker. Without absolute confidence, Will wouldn’t put himself or his crew in danger.
Noticing that Will didn’t seem to be joking, Mihawk furrowed his brow slightly. Though he still had plenty of tricks up his sleeve, he knew Will was holding back as well. Besides, he hadn’t co here looking for trouble, so he had no desire to keep fighting.
Though Will seed inclined to stop, if it ca down to it, Mihawk was prepared to leave temporarily and find another chance to approach him later.
Will, too, was aware that Mihawk likely hadn’t gone all out. He recalled from the original story that Mihawk had once harnessed natural weather to unleash a massive storm that engulfed all of Loguetown. Clearly, his Devil Fruit powers were far stronger than what he’d shown so far.
Curiosity piqued, Will couldn’t help but ask, "Mihawk, what Devil Fruit did you eat? Is it a Logia? Or maybe a Mythical Zoan?"
Mihawk wasn’t fond of people prying into his affairs, but after a brief pause, he answered candidly. "I ate the Logia-type Storm-Storm Fruit. Not a Mythical Zoan."
Will nodded thoughtfully. "So it really is a Logia. No wonder you didn’t transform during the fight."
If it were a Mythical Zoan, the user could shift forms, often gaining a significant boost in strength. Since Mihawk’s fruit was a Logia, the reason he hadn’t used elentalization was likely because he’d been relying on Haki for offense. Mihawk’s Observation Haki wasn’t much stronger than Will’s, and Will’s speed and strength far surpassed his. Mihawk couldn’t rely on foresight to elentalize and dodge, so he had to focus on defense, rendering elentalization largely useless.
After answering, Mihawk noticed Will didn’t press further. Unable to resist, he asked, "Madman Will, why is a man of your strength here in the East Blue? Do you have so special purpose?"
"Purpose?" Will raised an eyebrow, his tone tinged with surprise. "Why do I need a purpose?"
"No purpose at all?" Mihawk frowned.
"Of course not." Will grinned, a spark of wild arrogance flashing in his eyes. "I do what I want, when I want. No one can bind !"
Mihawk was montarily stunned, but then a look of understanding crossed his face. "So that’s it. You want to be the freest man on the seas."
Believing he’d grasped Will’s intentions, Mihawk didn’t bother asking if he’d consider joining the Revolutionary Army. Looking at Will—whose clothes were barely dirtied after their intense clash—Mihawk let out a sigh. "I can’t imagine how far you’ll go or what shocking things you’ll do."
He flashed another grin. "But that’s all in the future. No point dwelling on it now. Let the winds of fate guide us."
With that, Mihawk raised a hand, and powerful winds began swirling around him. "I’m sure we’ll et again on the Grand Line, Madman Will."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Mihawk vanished completely into the wind.
Hands in his pockets, Will mulled over Mihawk’s words, his brow furrowing. "What the heck was that guy going on about? Winds and fate? I don’t get it at all."
Unable to make sense of it, he decided not to bother. Instead, he focused his Observation Haki to track Mihawk’s position. "Huh. His speed’s way faster than I thought."
In Will’s Haki perception, Mihawk had already left the island of Loguetown, swiftly moving to a ship anchored far out at sea. As Mihawk landed on the ship’s deck and glanced back, seemingly sensing sothing, Will withdrew his Haki and began walking leisurely toward the port.
Suddenly, he paused, as if rembering sothing. Turning back, he looked at the spot where the execution platform once stood. It had collapsed entirely, reduced to a pile of rubble—likely collateral damage from their battle in the plaza.
Will’s gaze lingered thoughtfully for a mont before he shrugged it off and continued toward the docks.
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